


As We Always Were

by Runeb19



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief Mention of Violence, Explicit Language, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nanite Headcanons, Other Characters - Freeform, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runeb19/pseuds/Runeb19
Summary: It was ending how it was always going to end. Alone, a gun to the back of the head, a failure at everything he set out to do. He’d finally die, and get what he deserved.But instead, he found that Hell had rejected him yet again.





	As We Always Were

**Author's Note:**

> This fic assumes Jack and Gabriels meeting in the comics never happened!

 

Gabriel wondered, idly, if the council had somehow found out he'd been working to take them down, or if they'd just decided he was finally more of a liability than an asset. It could be either, really, and he'd likely never find out.

 

That was probably the most frustrating part to him, as he was forced down to his knees in the nondescript hallway, a gun pressed to the back of his head. The bitter taste of his failure was nothing new to him, not since the Fall, not since he’d _died_. But he'd understood, then, how it had all came about, even if it had only been in the last few seconds. Had he been wrong to trust Sombra? He didn't keep a journal, but perhaps they'd compiled the same mental list of targets he had, and had noticed a pattern? Maybe it was the pronounced difference in his performance when he was hunting down his old comrades compared to hunting his personal targets that made them question the effectiveness of their brainwashing?

 

It could be any of them, or all of them, or none of them, and he would never know. They'd been too smart for him. Moira had a device to short circuit his nanites, preventing him from ghosting or accessing his weapons, robbing him of his ability to flee or fight back. He might’ve tried, regardless, but they-Doomfist, Moira, the other council members-had been smart enough not to do it in person. He might've been able to ignore the bullets, the pain, if he had been able to take at least one of the bastards down, but these grunts weren't worth it.

 

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, finding some shred of dignity in the face of his second-and final-end. But the semblance of tranquility was shattered by the telltale noise of a pulse rifle. The pressure behind his head vanished, as noises of shock were cut off in the surprise volley of gunfire. There was another loud clatter, and he looked down to see a pair of his own shotguns sliding across the floor.

 

He reached out and picked them up instinctively, before finally looking up to see his savior.

 

Soldier:76, Talon’s most wanted, was strolling toward him as casually as if he owned the building, smoke still curling from the end of his rifle, held casually in one hand. Gabriel drew breath to thank him, but the man didn't break stride, simply grabbing his upper arm as he walked past, dragging him along with surprising strength.

 

“Wha-hey!” Were his dignified first words, as he scrambled to get his feet under him.

 

“Come on already,” came the rough-voiced reply. “They sabotaged your getaway ship, but that bitch O'Deorain left hers on base.”

 

“And where are we going?” Gabriel growled, finally getting his feet under him and wrenching his arm from the other man's grasp.

 

“Decide on the way,” The vigilante grunted.

 

“I haven't agreed to anything,” Gabriel said, nonetheless falling into step beside the other man.

 

“I didn't ask you to.”

 

“Jackass.”

 

The man turned his head to him, and Gabriel could hear the grin in his voice. “You better believe it.”

 

* * *

 

So of all the reasons for Gabriel's attempted execution, he could scratch Sombra off the list. The vigilante just pressed a device to the console of Moira’s ship, and Sombra’s signature skull decal popped up on the screen, winked, then disappeared, leaving them with full access to the ship.

 

“Doubt we have anything to change into.” Soldier grunted. “Spare uniforms don't usually make it into my essential inventory.” He sounded...disgruntled. Inconvenienced. Like he hadn't just apparently infiltrated a Talon base to rescue a wanted terrorist.

 

“What? No backup capes? How else are you supposed to look majestic in the wind?” It was so damn easy. So _familiar_. He felt sick.

 

“Only one cape per mission. You already took it.”

 

The jet was in the air before Gabriel even realized it, gliding toward whatever destination the vigilante had punched into its autopilot. With Moira’s codes and Sombra’s help, he was sure they'd be invisible to any Talon pursuers.

 

He watched mutely, sitting still, not far from the door. The soldier took his jacket off and threw it over a chair, revealing a Kevlar vest over a plain grey tee. Sweat stains were visible-he hadn't seen the man put in much work, but he must've done so to get to him. Or perhaps, with all the layers, he was just hot.

 

“So,” the man said, stretching and taking a seat facing him. “How'd you survive?”

 

That was it? No pretenses, no dancing around the subject, no accusations, insults, explanations? He _needed_ that. Needed to get out this feigned causal mood, needed to be angry, needed time to convince himself that he _didn't know this man_.

 

Instead, he just answered him.

 

“I didn't,” Gabriel said dryly. “Did all the mystical smoke and the skull motif not make that obvious?”

 

“The walking, breathing, talking man in front of me worked against that assumption.” The vigilante shrugged. “But fine, I’ll bite. How did you come back to life?” As he asked, he reached up to the back of his head-presumably reaching for the visor clasps. Gabriel had to fight the sudden urge to go over and help, not least of which because he’d have no idea how to.

 

“A couple of competitive witches trying to piss off God.”

 

“Interesting way to put it.”

 

“Witches is a morally neutral term, as far as I'm concerned. I'm not equating the two of them in _that_ way.”

 

“I suppose it’s hard to call what Angie does as anything other than magic.”

 

_No, Dammit._

 

Fight. Argue. Even over something small, something petty. He just needed the smallest bit of _conflict_ -

 

“What about you?” Gabriel asked. “Last I checked, you died too.”

 

The other man almost had the visor off.

 

“Not quite. Though it does speak to Talon’s incompetence that they thought I was just _so dead_ they didn't go looking for me.” There was an audible _click_ from the man's visor. “Super-soldiers are what they are, eh? I was messed up bad, but alive. Dragged myself from the rubble before getting picked up by rescue forces. I didn't have any I.D. on me, and between the blood and dirt, they couldn't tell who I was. Slipped away the moment I could, before they figured out who they found.” He pulled the visor from his face. Gabriel chose to watch the object, instead of the man, as it was placed to the side. “I think _they_ thought that I was one of the bad guys, since I ran away. Really though, I just figured if Talon knew I was alive they'd try again.” He was taking the Kevlar vest off now, not acknowledging him as Reaper, as a terrorist. Not acknowledging the fact that he might be in the plane with an enemy.

 

Because he knew he wasn't.

 

 _Fuck_. Fuck him, for being so casual, so calm. To hell with him for having such a presence that Gabriel couldn't make himself get angry or depressed. He’d been sucked along into the other mans pace, and even if his body language didn't show it, he was completely and utterly at the mans mercy.

 

He looked up, and met Jack’s gaze.

 

Warmth. Sympathy. Not a trace of anger or bitterness or any of the shouting or fighting they’d so often done leading up to the Fall.

 

He was open to him. Mask off, uniform off. Soldier:76 was gone, and Jack was sitting in his place.

 

“Your turn,” Jack said softly.

 

Gabriel felt his hands clench, the tips of his taloned gauntlets pressing into the metal covering his palms. He wasn't shaking. Not yet.

 

“Do you want help?” Jack asked.

 

Not help with the physical act of getting undressed of course. That wasn't what Jack meant.

 

Gabriel didn't answer, and instead focused himself on the task of taking his gauntlets off.

 

_Walk over here. Make me tell you to back off. Get mad at me._

 

There was no sound except the faint humming of the plane, the faint noise of metal on metal as he worked to take the gauntlets off, and the two men breathing.

 

Finally, they were off, and set to the side.

 

Jack said nothing, just sitting there, giving him a look that shone with infinite patience and compassion. He couldn't be mad, couldn't be upset with it.

 

“How did you find me?” He asked, buying time before he had to take the mask off.

 

“Sombra. She's pretty fond of you, even if she'll never admit it. She's not the only that knows either, mind you. Once you accept that one of the two of us is alive, it's not so hard to imagine the other is still kicking too. And after that, the similarities between us and our vigilante personas become pretty noticeable.”

 

That was an understatement. There was nothing about Soldier:76 that _didn't_ scream the name ‘Jack Morrison’, from the overly large pulse rifle, to the number designation he’d been given back in SEP.

 

But Gabriel had no other questions. No other way to stall. Jack would wait, he knew. If he needed to spend the rest of this flight in silence, Jack would let him. However many days, weeks, _years_ it took him to remove the mask, the look Jack was giving him told him that the man would still be there, waiting. There was no point.

 

 _Damn him_.

 

His hands were _not_ shaking as he slowly reached up, pushing the hood back, before his hands settled on the mask, taking it off his face.

 

He knew he was a sight. He’d looked at himself in the mirror, as long as he’d been able to stand it. He hadn't lasted long.

 

Smoke that was normally concealed by the mask and hood flowed freely now, from a face that was always slowly changing. Wounds opened up at random places, spewing smoke, and would randomly close. Sometimes they would appear almost normal, save the smoke, when they would open up on the path of old scars. Most of the time they didn't.

 

Jack didn't flinch. There was no sign, no flicker of dismay or discontent. Nothing Gabriel could seize onto to put between the two of them.

 

So many questions rose in his throat and fell just as quickly, each one as easily answered as the next.

 

_Why are you here?_

 

_Why are you so calm?_

 

_Why are you helping me?_

 

_Why can you even stand the sight of me?_

 

The answer was the same for each question, painfully obvious. Everything about Jack right now screamed it. But still…

 

“ _How?_ ” The word was torn from him with what felt like an incredible amount of force. “How can you still-after everything I've done?”

 

“I don't care about what you've done.” And damn him, it was almost convincing.

 

“ _Bullshit!_ None of this would've happened without me! Overwatch would still be around, you wouldn't have-”

 

“Wouldn't have what, Gabriel?” It felt so good to hear Jack say his name. “Wouldn't have died? I'm sitting right here.”

 

“By luck.” Gabriel spat. “Chance. Nothing I controlled.”

 

“I don't care.”

 

His hands were clenched so hard his nails were starting to draw blood. He stared down at them, unable to look at Jack.

 

“You _have_ to! I destroyed everything you cared about! All of the work you'd ever done and were doing went up in flames because of me. Your friends were hurt, _I_ _even died!_ You can't just-just not _care_!”

 

He was abruptly aware of two things. First, he was crying-he hadn't even know that was possible for him. Second, Jack had moved, and was now right in front him, fixing him with a gaze filled with pity, and lo-

 

“ _How_ .” He gasped, seemingly out of breath. “ _How can you look at me like that?_ ”

 

In response, Jack reached down and took his hand, pressing a small band of metal into the palm.

 

“Gabriel Reyes-Morrison,” Jack whispered. “No one could ever convince me that you tried to kill me, because nothing on this Earth could ever make me believe we stopped loving each other.” Gabriel met his eyes. “Not even you.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the ride to Watchpoint:Gibraltar was and would always remain a hazy memory for Gabriel. The next concrete memory he had was lying in bed with Jack, wrapped around each other, in the morning sunlight, basking in the physical contact and simple affection. Later, when Jack was awake enough, they talked.

 

“You through with Talon now?” Jack's groggy morning voice was endearingly familiar, even if it had roughened with age.

 

“The people that tried to execute me 12 hours ago? Yeah, think so.” He didn't think he was tired like Jack-didn't think he _could_ be tired like Jack-but the spell of the morning was strong, and he had the same sleepy tone to his voice.

 

“Good,” came Jacks mumbled reply. He was speaking more into Gabriel's chest than anything, but he was understandable.

 

“What now?” Gabriel asked, absently rubbing circles on Jacks shoulder with his thumb.

 

“Probably follow that damn recall.” Jack grumbled.

 

“Really?” Gabriel sat up slightly, enough that Jack had to raise his head. The other man gave him an annoyed look.

 

“Why?” Gabriel asked, fighting back a smile.

 

“So we can harass Angela into performing another miracle.”

 

“And then?”

 

“We fucking retire.”

 

Gabriel laughed, but it died away when he realized Jack wasn't. “You're serious?”

 

In response, Jack pushed him back down and returned to using his chest as a pillow.

 

“Yeah,” he said sleepily. “I'm sick of this. I'm sick of playing superhero to a never-ending cast of supervillains. I'm old and I'm tired and I just want to _sleep in_.”

 

Gabriel chuckled and wrapped his arms around Jack, squeezing slightly as he held the man to his chest.

 

“I think I understand what you're trying to say.”

 

“God, I hope you do. Not going for subtlety.”

 

Gabriel just pressed a kiss to the top of Jack's head and went silent as his husband fell back to sleep. He didn't sleep-hadn't for years-but there was nowhere he'd rather be.

 

* * *

 

“Most people get _more_ reasonable with age, you know,” Angela quipped, looking at them over her clipboard.

 

“Most people aren't genetically engineered super soldiers who already died because they put shit off until it was too late,” Jack snapped irritably.

 

“And yet I have two of them standing in front of me.” The blonde replied dryly.

 

Gabriel knew better than to laugh out loud. Someone had broken the base’s coffee maker again.

 

It had been 3 weeks since they arrived at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, and it had been 2 weeks and 6 ½ days since Gabriel had realized that Jack had flown them straight into the heart of the reformed Overwatch without telling him first.

 

Jack growled, but otherwise didn't reply.

 

“Look,” Angela said, a conciliatory note in her voice. “I have what reports of Moira’s were recovered from her time in Blackwatch, I have what reports your source in Talon procured about Gabriel's ongoing condition, and I have my own studies on him.” She put the clipboard down and spread her hands. “I want to help. I really do. I feel responsible and if I can undo this mistake, I will. But science is not _fast_ Jack. What happened to Gabriel cannot be replicated, and that means very slow experimentation, tackling each variable at a time. Despite what your may think,” her tone turned venomous for a moment, “I am _not_ Moira O'Deorain, and I am not _like_ Moira O'Deorain. I am not just going to jump straight into full experimentation without doing everything in my power to make it as safe as possible, and I would think you would want that as well, Jack!”

 

Jack ducked his head, ashamed. “You're right, of course. Sorry.”

 

“And I'm sorry Lena broke the coffee pot. But please do not tell me how to do my job. If there is any way on this Earth to return Gabriel to normal, I will find it, I swear to you both. But I will not risk losing him in the process.”

 

“I understand.” Jack said. “Thank you, Angie.” Angela’s cheeks turned the same shade of pink they always did when one of them called her that.

 

“Yes, yes, of course. Now get out of here and let me work.”

 

Jack, smiling, turned to go, and paused. “Did Lena break the last pot too?”

 

“No, that was Winston. He forgets how big he is sometimes.”

 

Jack grunted in acknowledgment. “Why do we only keep one coffee pot on base anyway?”

 

“Budgetary concerns,” Angela said, attention already returned to her papers. “We don't have the U.N.’s financial backing, and someone always breaks the damn things.”

 

Jack snorted.

 

“Excuse me,” Gabriel spoke up, feeling largely ignored. “Is no one going to ask for my input?”

 

Angela looked up, only half-listening, and frowned. “On coffee pots?”

 

“No,” Gabriel snapped. “My input on my own body!”

 

The doctors frown lasted for a second longer, than disappeared. “Ah. No, I wasn't planning on it.”

 

“What!?” Gabriel sputtered. “How can you not-you're planning medical operations on me, and you don't want my input?”

 

“Correct.” Angela deadpanned.

 

“Why?” Gabriel demanded, locking eyes with her.

 

Angela met and held his gaze. “Because if it were up to you, you'd want to dive right into risky experimentation. And that would be _stupid_. So I'm not bothering.” Gabriel's mouth fell open. “Besides, Jack can sign most legal documents and waivers on your behalf, especially since you're still technically deceased.”

 

“But-” Gabriel started, but Angela kept going.

 

“When I have concerns about your safety, I will talk to Jack. When I have concerns about Jack's safety, I will talk to you, and I do this because I have worked with the two of you for over a decade and I know that is the only reasonable way to deal with either of you.”

 

Gabriel closed his mouth. “That's...fair.”

 

“I know it is.” She snapped. “I haven't had any coffee today either. Get out of my office.”

 

They left.

 

* * *

 

Watchpoint:Gibraltar had been built very carefully, with an eye on the local environment. It wasn't perfect of course-the necessity of building the Watchpoint trumped environmental concerns-but the damage to the local ecology was minimal when compared to many other similarly scaled projects. In the years since it had been constructed, and especially during the years it had been abandoned, much of the plant life had made a comeback. With the temperate climate, sea breeze, and grass underfoot, the base had a wonderful springtime feel.

 

Just outside the base was a small hill that nature had reclaimed, a large oak tree providing shade and completing the picturesque backdrop. It was a popular spot for picnics among the recalled agents, and to any casual observer, that's just what Jack and Gabriel were doing, sitting under the tree with food spread in front of them. It was out of character for the two men, surely, but the bases occupants were content to let the old war heroes be sappy love birds if they wanted, and they were left undisturbed.

 

Instead of a picnic, they talked. Gabriel spoke about Moira, her induction into Blackwatch, and the pains Gabriel had gone to in order to make sure Jack wouldn't find out. “Anything for the Greater Good” had always served as Gabriel’s personal Modus Operandi, but he knew his husband wouldn't have approved. He spoke about how Moira's experiments had done little besides produce lights and smoke, and how he had started to dismiss them as meaningless. He talked about how he hadn't realized what had been happening until it was too late, and the only people left in Blackwatch he could trust were Genji and Mccree, and he sent them away for their own safety. He talked about how he had tried to get to Jack in Zurich, to warn him about the infiltrators Moira had brought in, the enemies he had unintentionally allowed to burrow into Overwatch, only for everything to go down in flames.

 

He spoke of Angela's attempts to save him, how her science had mixed with Moira's to create the monster Gabriel had become. How he had embraced that, and led Talon to believe he was on their side, that he didn't know they were responsible for what had happened to him, and he bided his time for a chance to strike, and take all of them down. He talked about first seeing Soldier:76, and how he had _known_ , but couldn't bring himself to believe it. And of course, he recounted his failure, how they had caught on, or maybe known all along, and how he had been about to die.

 

They hadn't talked of the past in the 3 weeks they'd been on base. They'd talked of the present, and the future. Gabriel's identity as The Reaper was kept a secret from the majority of the agents, as Gabriel had ditched the trademark garb, instead pulling a hood over his head and wearing a surgical mask. Most were led to believe that Gabriel was heavily scarred and ill-which wasn't technically false-and that was the reason why he never went into the field-though of course that was so no one would see him fight, and notice the similarities between him and his old persona.

 

The older agents, though, all knew. There was no point in trying to hide it.

 

Genji had simply stated that he was glad Gabriel had stepped off the path of vengeance, as he had. Jesse had clapped him on the shoulder and welcomed him back from his undercover work, with an obnoxious grin and a large wink. Winston had been more reserved-fairly so-but accepting of his explanation, and Lena had forgiven and hugged him before he had a chance to say anything. Ana had just given him a knowing look and welcomed him ‘back to himself’, and Angela might not have known at all, the way she behaved.

 

Her, Jack, and Jesse all treated him like he'd just been away on a long mission or vacation, like he hadn't been responsible for anything bad happening, like he hadn't helped bring down Overwatch, like he hadn't been their _enemy_.

 

He might've thought Jack had fallen asleep while he talked, if he hadn't known him so well. He had leaned back, clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. His breathing was even, but Gabriel knew that he'd been listening, and was just processing.

 

They sat in silence for almost 5 minutes, Jack not moving, Gabriel watching the sea and enjoying the breeze. His mask was on, but the hood was off, and he marveled at the sensation of the wind touching his head. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel human.

 

Finally, Jack sat up, pulling a knee back and resting his arm on it. Gabriel turned to look at him.

 

Jack took a breath, then spoke.

 

“Okay.”

 

There was a long pause, before Gabriel choked out a laugh.

 

“Okay? _Okay?_ ”

 

“Yeah,” Jack said calmly. “Okay.”

 

“But is _isn't_ !” Gabriel stood up in, disbelief and shock turning into something hotter. Jack stood up as well, watching him passively. “I just told you how I was responsible for the destruction of the greatest peacekeeping body in _history_ . An event that almost killed you, that _did_ kill people you cared about! I destroyed your career and ruined your legacy!”

 

He felt Jack's eyes bore into him.

 

“ _Okay_.”

 

Gabriel hit him. Hard.

 

Jack was knocked to the ground by the force, but Gabriel was too busy yelling to think about it.

 

“ _STOP IT!_ It’s not okay! Nothing about this is ok!” Jack propped himself up on one elbow, wiping a trail of blood on his chin with the opposite hand. His gaze, tone, and demeanor were infuriatingly neutral.

 

“You’re smoking,” Jack said. And Gabriel was-black smoke was curling out from under his clothes, his mood apparently agitating the nanites within him.

 

“OF _COURSE_ I AM!” Gabriel bellowed, tearing off his mask. “I’m a monster MADE out of smoke that can only exist by tearing the _living cells_ out of other people because my body can’t make them itself! I'm an _abomination_! Don't just sit there and pretend everything's ok, don't pretend I'm anything other than what I am, or that I've done anything other than what I've done!” His voice broke, and he looked down, unable to meet Jack's kind eyes. “Don't pretend it's ok,” he said, voice hoarse. “It's not ok.”

 

Jack stood up and closed the distance between then, reaching out and grabbing Gabriel's collar. Not hard-just enough to pull Gabriel in a little bit, and to entice the him to look up, which Gabriel did.

 

“What do you think of me?” Jack asked quietly. “Do you think I'm playing God, here to absolve you of your sins? Don't be ridiculous.” Something hardened in Jack's eyes. “The first thing I did after I put that 76 jacket on was track down the politician that gave Talon our itinerary and the floor plan of the Zurich base, I put my gun between his eyes, I told him he deserved it, and I pulled the trigger.” Gabriel's eyes widened, but he stayed silent.

 

“We've both done a lot of good things in our life, and we've both done a lot of bad things,” Jack continued. “I can't judge you, Gabriel. I can only forgive you for what you did to me. The others can only forgive you for what you did to them. And we _all have_. But we can't speak for the other people you've hurt, or their families. We’ve paid for our actions. You more than me. Have we paid enough? I don't know. I've given up on trying to figure that stuff out. I'm just going to do what I think is best and act like we’re going to live forever. And I don't want to live forever without you.”

 

Gabriel couldn't speak.

 

“I'll storm whatever terrorist base I have to, I'll uncover whatever experimental technology we need,” He let out a short laugh. “I’ll put up with every one of your damn tantrums, because the alternative is much worse.” Jack's body relaxed, and he wrapped his arms around Gabriel, pressing his head against Gabriel's chest. “I don't know what to do to fix the world. So I'm just gonna do what I can to fix you, so I can find some happiness for both of us.”

 

Gabriel wrapped his arms around Jack in return.

 

“I don't deserve it.” Gabriel murmured.

 

“Gabe-”

 

“But,” he said, cutting Jack off. “If that's what _you_ want, then I’ll try.”

 

Jack let out a long, relieved sigh. “ _Thank you_.”

 

Gabriel squeezed Jack after what felt like an eternity. “Hey.”

 

“Mmh?”

 

“We should probably eat some of this food.” Gabriel murmured.

 

“Right. Food. Yeah.” Reluctantly, they disentangled themselves and moved over to the picnic blanket, sitting down next to each other. “It’s been sitting out for like an hour, though,” Jack said, grimacing.

 

“Our dramatic pauses aren’t that long,” Gabriel protested. “It's been 40 minutes, at most.”

 

“45 minutes,” Jack offered, grabbing a sandwich.

 

“Deal.”

 

“So glad we can still bet on things like the linear passage of time.” Jack said, taking a large bite. “And it's a good thing we didn’t bring anything hot out here,” he added, mouth full.

 

Gabriel elected to ignore the poor manners and snatched up an apple. “I don’t have functioning taste buds, so that doesn’t really matter to me.” The apple slowly shriveled in his hands as the nanites did their job.

 

“Well that's horrific,” Jack observed casually, before taking another bite of his sandwich.

 

“And it’s not even very filling.” Gabriel tossed the apple in the plastic bag they’d brought for trash.

 

“I only just now realized I haven't seen you eat at all since we’ve been here.” Jack said, glancing at his husband curiously.

 

“Well of course not. If you were around, I’d probably have eaten _you_.”

 

Jack frowned at him. “Gabe...you haven't eaten anyone on the base, have you?”

 

Gabriel socked him in the arm, laughing. “Of course not!” Jack joined in, rubbing his arm. “Angie’s biotech can revitalize my cells, make them last longer. After that, it's just making sure the important ones get replaced.”

 

Jack cocked his head, curious. “So your body doesn't produce _any_ cells?”

 

“Nope. And it's hard to comprehend just how _many_ cells a human body has, let alone guys our size.” Gabriel reached over and picked up another apple. “The type of cells don't matter. The nanites repurpose and reprogram them wherever they go. The reason I went after people was because humans just had the most cells.” The apple began to lose color and shrivel in Gabriel's grasp. “You can't see anything happening because it's occurring on an incredibly small scale. You only see the result. That's where the nonsense about me eating souls came from. People couldn't see and therefore didn't know what I was doing, they just saw people fading away.”

 

“So it's the nanites that make it work?” Jack asked, looking thoughtful.

 

“Moira’s experiments changed the way my brain interacts with my cellular structure. That's where my abilities come from. Angie’s nanites make it possible for my body to actually _use_ those abilities, because of how the nanites interact with those cells. My body died, but it was brought right back, so while I retained my mental faculties,” he tapped his head, “my brain fully believes my body is dead, so my body is constantly in the process of dying. By taking cells to replace my dying ones, I’m essentially postponing my bodies expiration date.”

 

Jack leaned back, lacing his arms behind his head, sandwich forgotten. “...huh.”

 

Gabriel snorted and moved to lay down next to him. “Huh.” He repeated, grinning. He was sure Jack rolled his eyes, though it was hard to see from this angle.

 

“So...Angela just has to convince your brain that it's alive?”

 

“Essentially. I mean, the science is obviously more complicated, but we wouldn't understand that. The tricky part is, she needs to flush out the nanites from my body as well. There's a whole lot of unknowns about leaving them in. That's what makes the experimentation dangerous.”

 

Jack made an indistinct noise, clearly mulling over the information. Gabriel was content to lay next to him, closing his eyes and enjoying the breeze. The whole situation was surreal-had been since he’d dragged from the brink of his second death by his dead husband and returned to Overwatch only to be treated as if he’d never left. He still didn't think he deserved it-he would never believe he deserved it. But he wasn't willing to tell Jack no.

 

“I'm surprised you understand all of that.”

 

Even if he could be a total ass at times.

 

“Ah, yes, how crazy of me to be curious about how I was brought _back to life_.” Jack's silence was very judgemental. “Moira likes to preach and Angie likes to lecture, ok? I just actually listened this time.” Jack snorted, but seemed to accept the explanation.

 

“We should probably eat some of this food,” Jack said.

 

“We should probably throw this food away,” Gabriel corrected.

 

Jack turned to him, frowning. “Can't you take care of that?”

 

“Wow, Jack. Am I just a garbage disposal to you now? That's real insensitive.”

 

“Well,” he could hear the tremor of laughter on Jack's voice. “You don't have to worry about the taste being bad, right? So you can just get rid of them, and we won't have to throw anything away.”

 

“Genius as always, Jackie. I'll make sure to tell Angie that once the nanites are out of me, she should send them to a landfill. What could possibly go wrong?”

 

* * *

 

“...and that's everything that could possibly go wrong,” Angela said, indicating the last slide of her presentation. “That I could think of, at any rate.”

 

Gabriel stared at the slide, which had a few choice pictures of missing or malformed limbs.

 

“Did you do anything aside from dream up nightmares this past month, Angie?”

 

“Believe me, Gabriel, these are _not_ the nightmares.”

 

“Fantastic.”

 

“Gabe, stop whining for a moment and let her talk.”

 

“Oh, my apologies. Please excuse my whining about the possible _destruction of my body_.”

 

“You're excused,” Angela said sweetly. Gabriel opened his mouth to retort, but Jack shushed him again, and she continued speaking. “My research showed there was no safe way to separate Gabriel and the nanites, so we are forced to use a more rudimentary method. We are going to have to simply destroy the nanites.”

 

“Ok…” Jack said slowly. “So what's the catch?”

 

“I'm not so sure it's a ‘catch', persay. When the nanites are wiped out, the body will remain the way it was. However, the way it was depends on Gabriel. Say we start with your left arm,” she walked over and took his left wrist, holding it up. “The machine-which, mind you, hasn't been built yet-will be a circle that travels from your hand,” she tapped the tips of his fingers. “All the way to your shoulder.” She patted his shoulder. “And then back down, for a safety sweep.” She walked away and turned off the presentation, closing her laptop before turning to face them, leaning against her desk.

 

“As I said, when the nanites are gone, the arm will remain. However, what I found in Moira’s research was that Gabriel's body does not naturally stay solid. It changes, apparently a great more than you're consciously aware of. The more you used your Wraith form, the more you turned yourself into smoke,the easier it became, but because you used it so much, the nanites became more unstable. In another sense, they became used to being separate and spread out.” She stopped to take a drink from a water cup, and both men realized they'd leaned forward to listen. They straightened in their seats, but they didn't miss her smile.

 

“What will be left after the nanites are gone,” she continued. “Will be, to put it bluntly, dead flesh. The arm will no longer function or be responsive, because it hasn't been all this times-the nanites have been moving it and replenishing it, not the body itself. _That_ is something the biotic tech we already have can repair, once the brain is up and running. But we cannot heal what is simply not there. It will take immense concentration during an unavoidably painful process to make sure the arm stays solid, so that it will be solid afterwards.”

 

Gabriel leaned back, deep in thought, but Jack spoke up.

 

“So we repeat that process for his body, but what about his head?”

 

“This whole operation is going to be carried out using precise electric shocks. We will be giving Gabriel some predatory fluids-to help the machine extract the nanites without damaging the body-and some of that will prep the brain as well, but as you imagine, that is more complicated.” She seemed uncertain, visibly hesitating.

 

“Hold on for a moment,” Gabriel said, holding up a hand. The other two to him. “This whole thing… the way you've been talking about my body,” Angela swallowed. She seemed almost afraid. “The way the nanites are supposed to be running it makes it seem as though I'm not doing anything!”

 

“Gabriel-” Angela began, but Gabriel cut her off.

 

“And on top of that-my arms dead, it's always been dead? My lungs, my heart, my _brain_ has always been dead, just operated by these things? They haven't been functioning on their own? That makes me sound like-like-”

 

“Like a nanite colony, and not a living man,” Angela said, so quietly they could barely hear her.

 

“What?” Jack said, looking back and forth between the two of them, face slowly falling. “What are you two talking about?”

 

“I died,” Gabriel whispered.

 

“I don't-we already knew that.” Jack said uncertainly. “What is going on?”

 

Angela took a long, shaky breath before speaking. “Memories are patterns in our mind. They are recorded in a series of responses between synapses in our brain, and it is through memories that we inform our own personalities, morals, and consciences. When I used the nanites, they-they memorized Gabriel's memory patterns. And because they had all of his memories, they imitated his personality, in effect _becoming_ him.” Angela looked up at them, tears in her eyes. “I never brought him back to life. That's impossible.”

 

The silence in the room was deafening. Jack looked like he’d been shot. He raised a hand to his heart, and Gabriel abruptly remembered that Jack was not young anymore. He instinctively reached out and gripped the other mans shoulder.

 

“Jack?” His voice came out small, afraid-of what, he wasn't sure.

 

Jack's breathing was loud, but he didn't respond, or shrug off Gabriel’s hand.

 

“Are...are you alright?” Angela asked hesitantly, her voice shaking.

 

Jack shook his head, staring down at the floor, breathing heavily. Angela started forward, but Jack held up a hand, and she stopped. They were frozen, waiting for him to recover.

 

Finally, Jack took a steadying breath, and looked up at Angela. “So what now?” He asked, voice a weak rasp.

 

“The ability to restore a dead body has been theoretically possible in medicine for a long time now.” Angela said. “With biotic tech, it's almost easy. Revitalizing and replacing dead cells is what it does. We can rebuild a body, but that leaves the brain. Even if- _if_ -we could physically recreate or restart a brain, it would be...how to say this...empty. The brain is an incredibly complex electronic system, with sensitive connections to the rest of the body. It learns through inputs and responses, and informs itself through memories, which we have no way to recreate.”

 

She took a deep breath. “The nanites in his brains last job will be to rewrite his mind. To re-teach the brain all of the memory patterns they memorized. Everything else is already there, already made and connected. The final step is to destroy the nanites with the same shock that will restart his heart. When the blood is flowing again, everything will come to life.” She looked up at them. “Theoretically, scientifically, that should be it. He’d have his memories and personality in a living, organic body. If...your beliefs are different...then I...don't know.”

 

Jack didn't speak after that. Gabriel's treatments were scheduled to start a month later-when Angela had predicted the machine would be built and tested. She had said that however they felt about it, there was no point in _not_ going through with the treatments. They left together, Jack not looking at either of them, and Gabriel followed him back to their quarters.

 

Jack didn't stop once he was through the door, going straight to the bedroom. He shed his jacket, tossing it carelessly on the ground, and sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his head in shaking hands. Gabriel hovered by the door, uncertain of what to do.

 

“Jack?” He barely recognized his own voice, quiet and timid. He’d _known_ , in a way. But it was impossible for him to truly comprehend-that _he_ wasn't _he,_ but _we_ , a collective consciousness of impossibly tiny machines simply using this body as a vessel. He still thought of himself as a man, one human, because that's what the nanites believed. And he _was_ the nanites.

 

“I think I knew,” Jack said hoarsely. “The same way you did.” Gabriel didn't ask how Jack knew he’d thought that. They'd all sort of known, if by the simple fact that Angela couldn't use magic. “You were dead. Plain and simple. But...to hear it. To have it confirmed was just-” he took another shaky breath. “It's just hard.”

 

Slowly, reluctantly, Gabriel-or whoever, whatever he was-crossed the room, and sat down next Jack.

 

“If this works-when this works-where does it leave us?” Gabriel asked.

 

“You'll have your memories up until the final operation. We’ll just be continuing where we left off.” Jack answered.

 

“That's not what I meant. I wanted to know where it leaves _us_ .” Jack tensed, but didn't respond, so Gabriel continued. “I love you like I always have. But it's also true that I love you _because_ I always have.” He reached out and covered Jack's hand with own, covering the wedding ring. “Your husband died, Jack. I'm not him. I'm just a really good copy. Maybe I'll wake up after the operation telling you all about how I’d just been dragged up from the pit of hell in order for a blonde woman to spit in the eye of God and you’ll know it's _really_ me,” Jack snorted in spite of himself, and Gabriel felt a smile touch his face. “But if I don't...then we’ll both be wondering for the rest of...who knows how long.”

 

Jack just sighed and bowed his head.

 

“I don't know.” He sounded miserable.

 

Gabriel watched him, wishing he could do more to ease the impossible burden on the mans shoulders. Jack had survived horrible injuries, persevered through incredible strife, he hadn't been lied to, and he had done _everything_ right. And it still might not matter. He might never have his husband back, despite being convinced the whole time that he could.

 

“I wanted to retire with you, Jack,” Gabriel said softly. “I still do. But you have the control here.” He removed his hand from Jack’s, and Jack's eyes found the wedding ring. “There's no easy choice here. They're all painful. It's your decision as to what you think you can live with.”

 

“Impossible, painful choices, that only I can make,” Jack said, a shaky laugh in his voice. “Haven't I made enough of those in my life?”

 

Gabriel patted his shoulder. “One more. Then I promise, you’ll be done.”

 

Jack nodded slowly, in understanding. “Just-give me time, okay?”

 

“Of course,” Gabriel said. He got up from the bed. “Whatever you need, Jack.”

 

“Just time,” Jack said. “Time and space.”

 

He sounded so tired it _hurt._

 

“Alright,” Gabriel said, leaning down to kiss Jack on the forehead. “You should get some rest.”

 

Jack didn't answer as Gabriel left the room, nor did he react as Gabriel turned off the lights. His eyes were fixed on the wedding ring, as he turned it slowly, over and over again.

 

* * *

 

Gabe woke up in a rush of light and noise. His body felt like it was screaming at him, and he realized he wasn't breathing. He took a large, gasping breath. His lungs felt like they were on fire. He couldn't see properly, everything was a blurred mess of lights, and all the noises blended together into an unintelligible roar.

 

He was alive.

 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, focusing on breathing, ensuring that he continued to do so. His eyesight slowly swam into greater clarity, but he couldn't focus on anything. The world around him seemed to grow quieter, until eventually, he was aware of a repetitive beeping noise coming from his right. He struggled to turn toward it, his body protesting, and as he responded, the noise stopped.

 

“Gabriel?” Gabe turned to face the speaker, but moved too fast. Everything blurred again. He squeezed his eyes closed, and weak hands slowly raised to his head.

 

“Gabriel, can you turn towards me?” It was Angela speaking. “Slowly, of course.”

 

He complied.

 

“Very good. Can you speak?”

 

He took a deep breath, and answered. “No.”

 

“I'm glad to see your personality survived the process.”

 

Something pressed down on his shoulders.

 

“Can you feel this?” She asked.

 

“Yes,” Gabe answered.

 

The pressure disappeared. “Keep your eyes closed for now.” She walked away, and Gabriel remained where he was, eyes closed. He could hear her walking back, and then there was a snapping noise. He recoiled as an awful smell invaded his senses.

 

“Olfactory senses are working as well,” Angela said calmly. The smell faded quickly, to his relief. Fingers found their way under his chin and pressed. He complied, lifting his head. “Alright, go ahead and open your eyes.”

 

He did as he was told. Everything seemed overbright and blurred together. It was painful.

 

“I can’t-” He found he was already out of breath, and had to stop. Had he forgotten how to breathe? Had he _been_ breathing regularly as the Reaper? He couldn’t remember.

 

“Gabriel?” He turned toward her voice. The bright blonde hair stood out, but her face was distorted, and try as he might, he couldn’t bring it into focus.

 

“I know that if you can see, it’s very indistinct. Is that what you are experiencing?”

 

“Yes.” Gabe answered shortly.

 

“I see.” He thought he heard the scratching of a pen. “The rewiring of your optic nerves was, unfortunately, imperfect, and we will not be able to go back in and fix it, not without the nanites. Your vision _will_ improve, over time, up to a point where, with prescription glasses or contacts, you should be able to see just fine.”

 

“How...long?” He managed to ask.

 

“Until your sight improves? Not very long. You won’t be leaving this room until I’m assured you can get around on your own. Right now your body's working overtime to make sure everything is functioning correctly, but it will settle down.”

 

Gabe nodded slowly.

 

“Jack?” He asked.

 

“Ah,” He could hear the hesitation in her voice. “I am not sure where he is, at the moment. He was scheduled to get in last night, but a weather delay for his flight was anticipated.”

 

“Wait, what?” Gabe squeezed his eyes shut to block out the disorienting view, but turned toward Angela. “His flight? He’s off base?”

 

“You mean-he didn’t-oh, dear. I shouldn’t have said that.”

 

“Well you did,” Gabe said, aggravated. “Where has he been?” He could picture Angela hesitating, glancing around the room for an escape from the conversation. “Angie…”

 

“He was...visiting Nepal.” She said slowly.

 

It took a second, and then it hit him.

 

_The Shambali_

 

Jack had sought out advice from the kind of source only the old Strike-Commander of Overwatch could manage, the deeply spiritual and isolationist Omnic monks that reside in the mountains of Nepal. The same group that had helped Genji come to terms with his cyborg body.

 

He supposed that made sense. He had been, essentially, a living, sentient machine, and the monks were living, sentient machines who spent their time thinking about matters of the soul, or potential lack thereof. What bothered him was that he was only just now learning about it.

 

“Why didn't he tell me?” It was the longest sentence he’d managed so far.

 

“I don't think he told anyone. Genji is the one who told me, and he only knew because he accompanied Jack.”

 

“I suppose he would, but I also would have supposed he’d tell me.” Gabe’s throat was feeling less constricted, each word less of an effort.

 

“I don't know how much he knew when they left, though presumably he learned the rest at some point during the trip. He did what he thought was best.”

 

“What Jack told him was best,” Gabe grumbled.

 

“He’s not a robot, he would have-” she was interrupted by Gabe’s snickering. She frowned at him, confused for a moment, before she put her head in her hands. “Oh, what an awful metaphor.”

 

“Don't worry, I won't tell,” Gabe promised, still laughing.

 

“I make no such promise.” They both started as Jack strolled into the room, a heavy winter jacket still on. “That being said, I don't think he heard you.”

 

“Who could know? He _is_ a ninja,” Came a robotic voice from behind them. They looked over to see Genji lounging on a countertop. Gabe was confident he was rolling his eyes under his suit.

 

He returned his attention to Jack. The man's face was a mask, revealing nothing of what he was thinking.

 

“Welcome back, I guess,” he said, a tad sourly.

 

“Don't pout.” Jack said, voice tinged with disapproval. “And welcome back to you, as well.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

Jack turned to Angela. “How'd it go?”

 

“His vision will never be perfect again, but it'll be livable. Everything else is functioning correctly.” She smiled. “Including his _attitude_.”

 

Gabe made a face. “You sound like my mother. And you're like 2 decades younger than me.”

 

“Can he be released?” Jack asked, ignoring him.

 

“So long as you stay with him and notify me if anything happens, yes. I imagine you want some real privacy.”

 

Jack merely grunted and offered Gabe his arm. Scowling, he moved to stand on his own, before being immediately reminded of why Jack had offered help.

 

Thankfully, Jack seemed to have anticipated this, and was ready to catch him. Gabe knew he was blushing as Jack slung one of his arms over his shoulder.

 

“Thank you, Angela.” Jack said, smiling at her.

 

She nodded, smiling back. “Of course, Jack.” And with that, they were off, Jack practically dragging Gabe out of the room. He could hear Angela ask Genji about the trip before the door swung closed.

 

They walked toward their quarters in silence, Gabe’s strength rapidly returning to him. He’d taken longer to recover from regular surgery. By the time they made it through the door, he could stand on his own. He didn't think he'd be going for a run anytime soon, but he could manage to move around the room. Of course, experience told him that once he sat or laid down, he wouldn't be getting back up for some time, so rather than head for the bed, he lurched toward the dresser, to change into more comfortable sleeping clothes.

 

As he turned away, however, he felt Jack grab his shoulders, and rest his head between Gabe's shoulder blades.

 

“I'm sorry,” Jack whispered, barely loud enough to be heard.

 

“Jack-”

 

“Don't. Just...give me a moment.”

 

Gabe did, not moving, listening to Jacks shaky breaths. There was always a chance that the operation might not have worked, or that something could have gone horribly wrong. It probably wasn't a coincidence that Jack had waited until he could be sure that it was over before entering the room.

 

Eventually, Jack stood up, the pressure on Gabe's back disappearing, and Jack released his shoulders. Gabe turned around to face him, trying to ignore the faint hint of moisture in the man's eyes, or the slight trembling of his lips.

 

“You went to see the Shambali.” It wasn't a question, even if Angela hadn't outright said it.

 

“Yeah,” Jack said, voice a little hoarse. “Figured it was about time those old Strike-Commander connections did something for my personal life.”

 

Gabe nodded. Overwatch hadn't spoken with the Shambali much, but they had done so _more_ than other organizations. If Jack had a way to get in touch with them-either through Genji or someone Genji knew-it was believable that they'd grant him an audience.

 

“I thought,” Jack continued. “That if anyone or anything in the world could give me advice on this, it'd be the group of not-quite humans who dedicated their whole existence to studying the concept of a soul.” He laughed a little, not meeting Gabe’s eyes.

 

“Makes sense.” Gabe itched to reach out and touch Jack, to pull the obviously struggling man into a crushing bear hug and hold him until he felt better. But he waited. He needed to hear Jack's answer.

 

“Yeah.” Jack looked down, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “It was...a lot to think about. I knew what I _wanted_ to be the truth, what I wanted to think, but...you know, it's never that easy.”

 

Gabe nodded silently.

 

Jack took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and looked up, meeting Gabe’s gaze.

 

“I can't forget, Gabe. I can't forget that you died. But that doesn't mean I can't see you, standing in front of me. And it is _you_. Not some-some copy, or facsimile. You are the man I love, here to support me, just like you’ve always been.” Jack took a half-step forward, and Gabe’s arms, seemingly of their own volition, wrapped around him and pulled him closer. “Whether this is part of some divine plan or an abomination in the eyes of the Lord, you're here, with me. And come Heaven or Hell I’ll be with you. I promise.”

 

“Listen to the farmboy talk,” Gabe murmured, a grin spreading across his face. “I vowed it all those years ago, I’ll vow it again right here. I will never leave you, Jack. Because I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Jack replied, and rested his head against Gabe's chest.

 

“A love stronger than Death itself,” Gabe said, bringing a hand up to cradle Jacks white-topped head. “One so strong that time, war, or even terrorists can't harm it.”

 

“You poet,” Jack muttered. “God, the immutable laws of space and time, the tragedy of war, and terrorists, in that order, tried to get between us and failed. We win.”

 

“You have an awful sense of humor,” Gabe said, pulling Jack away from him slightly. “Now can we get to bed? I'm going to be sore and starving tomorrow and would like to at least be well-rested in preparation for it.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes. “You speak with the confidence of a man who thinks he has the strength to change his clothes on his own. And you are almost certainly wrong.”

 

The night was almost normal after that, trading jibes and affection like they'd always done. And as they fell into bed, arms wrapped around each other, Gabe smiled as he felt himself drift off into the first real sleep he’d had in almost a decade. They'd made it through everything that had been thrown at them, and they were still here.

 

They had each other.

 

He knew they were going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story that changed form several times as I was writing it. I do like what it came out to be, but that is also the main its so long xD. Hope you enjoyed!


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